Lessons
by thoroughlymodernJulie
Summary: A series of vignettes highlighting the trials and errors of life. For Paola.
1. Patience

As I understand it, several of my friends are starving for some TSOM fanfic. I myself am having issues with my muse, but I managed to come up with this cute little drabble. This one's for Paola. Enjoy! (:

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Stir-crazy, that's how Maria felt right now. With Matthias clinging to her skirts as she attempted to move about the kitchen, cleaning things up, and Werner and Erich chasing each other in a game of tag around the big, oaken table, shouting at the top of their lungs, Maria had never wanted to scream more in her life. A quick glance at her watch told her that four more children would be home from school in several hours, and that Liesl, Friedrich, and Louisa would be arriving for dinner with their families soon after that. At the moment, Maria couldn't even recall the occasion.

"Boys!" Maria demanded. "Please, go outside for a while and play with the cats so I can get some work done!"

"Kitties!" all three shrieked, running out the back door.

Maria watched them from the window, then turned around and leaned against the counter, a hand on her head. She wasn't sure how she managed most days, but somehow, she managed. If only tonight's dinner would simply cook itself, she would feel much more inclined to enjoy the nice day with her boys. It had rained constantly for weeks, and today was the first in which the sun had decided to shine.

She went wearily back to making apfelstrudel, unhappy with how dry the dough felt. When the dough ripped beneath her fingers, less than paper thin and nearly perfect for the dish, she gave up, tossing it all in the garbage. It looked like she would be making marble cake after all.

Her deft hands threw the ingredients together swiftly, and within minutes it was ready for the oven. Thankfully, the rest of the night's meal was ready and roasting slowly alongside the cake. She had to admit, over the years, she'd become quite an accomplished cook, despite baking being her life-long forte.

"Mutti!"

Maria propped open the back door and stuck her head out of it, inquiring, "What is it, Erich?"

He ran over to her, holding out a baby bird with a misshapen wing. "I found him in the garden," the little boy said earnestly.

"Oh, dear," Maria murmured, touching the tiny bird kindly. "Bring him in here and we'll fix his wing all up."

Clearing the baking utensils out of the way, Maria took the creature from her son and placed it on the table, examining its wing. "Erich," Maria instructed, "I want you to run outside and find a nice, sturdy stick about the size of my finger."

The little boy dashed back outside to find what his mother had requested, and upon return was trailed by his twin.

"Mutti," Matthias wimpered, "Werner punched me!"

Sighing, Maria assured, "I'll speak to him in a moment, but you have to help me and Erich fix this bird's wing."

Tenderly, Maria splinted the bird's broken wing with the stick Erich had found, securing it tightly with strips of muslin she'd torn from an old apron. "We have to take care of him until his wing heals," she explained carefully to her sons. "So when Kurt gets home from school, we'll have him go up in the attic and find an old bird cage. For now, I want you two to go and find a little box, and we'll keep him in there so he's comfortable and safe."

The twins nodded seriously, and scurried off to find a box to house the little bird in. Relieved, Maria placed the feathered creature in her apron pocket and stepped outside to find Werner. She found him sitting on the steps leading into the lake, drawing figures with a long stick on the stone step beneath him. With a hand placed over her pocket, she hurried toward her son, sitting herself on the top step.

"You're going to spank me, aren't you?" the child asked quietly.

Somewhat bemused, Maria smiled. "I should," she conceded, "but I don't think I'm going to."

Werner turned to his mother with wide eyes. "You're not?"

Maria shook her head. "No, Werner. You're six years old, and you ought to know better than to hit your brothers."

"I'm sorry, Mother," he mumbled.

"I don't think it's me you should be apologizing to," Maria said sternly. "You never know why someone might want your attention. You must be patient with others, especially your siblings." Gently removing the bird from her pocket, she showed it to Werner. "Erich brought him to me. His wing is broken, and he'll need someone to love him and take care of him until he can be on his own. Your little brothers love you, Werner, and they love spending their days with you. They're going to be so sad when you have to go to school with the others in the fall."

The little boy looked up at his mother, then climbed up the stairs to sit next to her and hugged her tight. "I love you, Mutti."

"And I love you," Maria returned, holding her son close. "But next time I won't let your behaviour slide, understood?"

"Yes," he whispered. He held his hands out, to which his mother carefully transferred the bird. "I have the perfect place for him," Werner declared.

"Do you?"

"Yes, my old shoe box. I'm going to find it right now!"

Maria smiled as she watched him carefully jog toward the house, completely aware of the tiny creature in his hands. Just as he climbed the steps leading into the back parlor, the twins walked out, both holding their own shoe boxes, ones that housed shoes they wore as two-year-olds. Werner glanced back at her, and she stood, she gave a tiny nod, content to watch from afar. He said something to the two four-year-olds, and the hug the three of them shared warmed Maria's heart.

Instead of confining herself to the kitchen, Maria chose to take a walk through the garden, and before long, her boys joined her, clamoring to tell her about the little box they had fixed up for the bird. She enjoyed the chatter, for there was nothing she loved more than the voices of her children, each and every one of them.


	2. Chocolate

Hi, y'all! expanding upon this was the furthest thing from my mind, but the bug bit me last night, and with the help of my lovely beta, I spun this into fruition and figured it'd be a lovely addition. I don't know what will happen, so I'll continue to leave this open-ended.

I would like to note the vignettes are not necessarily related to one another. ;) Enjoy!

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"Thank you," Georg said to Franz, who took his coat and hat from him at the door. "Would you happen to know where Maria is?"

"I believe she rummaging in the pantry," sniffed Franz, who wasted no time in retreating to the closet.

Georg watched his butler quietly, noting with dismay that the man made no effort to hide his disapproval of Maria, though there wasn't much to be done about it. Franz respected his employer's wife, even though he clearly thought she was far too below Georg in class ranking.

Shaking it off, Georg made his way to the kitchen, bakery treats in hand. Maria wouldn't be expecting him so early—it was an hour until lunch, yet—and the children wouldn't be home from school until after a rehearsal for some play or other.

Pushing open the door to the pantry, Georg found his wife indeed rummaging about. "Darling," he purred, "I have a treat for us."

Maria gave a yelp of fright before spinning around to face her husband. "Georg!" she exclaimed. "I didn't expect you home so… early." A hand was clutching her heart.

Georg chuckled at the calculating, trailing sentence she spoke, reasoning, "It was quite a bore at the office today."

"Even so, you near gave me a heart attack, Captain!"

"I'm sorry, my love. It won't happen again."

"I hope not," Maria said tartly before eyeing the bag of bakery goods he held. She instantly felt her mouth water. "Georg, is anything in that bag of a chocolate nature?"

Raising an eyebrow, he answered, "Perhaps. Why?"

"I've got the most excruciating craving for chocolate, and I only ate a piece of toast for breakfast," she moaned. "It's Frau Schmidt's day off, and she has the grocery list."

"Ah, I see," Georg murmured, setting the bag down on a countertop and circling his wife seductively before stopping to rest his hands on her hips and massage her lower back with his thumbs. "What would you say to a lovely little tête-à-tête upstairs?"

"Georg, please, I'm not in the mood for games," Maria snapped, twisting out of his grasp. "There are a thousand things to do—you've no idea. Don't you have things to do, yourself?"

Puzzled, Georg stepped away. "Maria… I thought it would be nice for the both of us to have the afternoon alone together. It's been quite some time…"

"Well, you thought wrong," Maria said, her tone quite clipped. "Here, we're never alone. Something always needs to be done, a child always needs attention, a meal always needs prepared, a piece of clothing needs repaired—"

Here, Georg cut off Maria's list with a kiss so deep, it normally would have made her stomach turn over with butterflies and her body ache with desire. But today, she was feeling nothing, only an intense desire to be left alone and certainly not touched.

"Georg," Maria struggled, stomping hard on one of his feet, "I said I don't want to do this!"

Georg withdrew from his wife's hostile embrace as though he'd been electrocuted, hurt and confusion flooding his mind. Brow furrowing, he said angrily, "This is how you want it? Fine, I'll go back to the office—and don't expect me for dinner."

"Fine!" Maria shouted after him. Broodingly, she turned back to her interrupted task, then falteringly remembered the bag of bakery goods he'd left behind. Hesitantly, she snatched it and opened it, noting that he'd bought a chocolate éclair for her, and for himself, a slice of linzertorte.

Dinner that night was an awkward affair, for the children, noticing their father's gaping absence from the table and Maria's moodiness, chose to remain silent throughout the meal. Only Gretl pouted that her food wasn't to her liking, and as a result, Maria silently removed the child's plate and replaced it with a rich goulash she'd made the day before.

Later, Liesl worked up the nerve to ask her mother if everything was quite alright. The answer she received was honest and disconcerting; her parents had never been in such a temper with each other.

Once all the children were in bed and Maria had read until her eyes were tired, she wearily prepared to turn in for the night, and upon entering her bedroom, found her husband buttoning his pajama top.

"I didn't hear you arrive," Maria said quietly, setting the book she carried on the dresser.

Georg looked at his wife, hard. She had been most uncharacteristically moody today, and if her still-acid disposition was anything to speak of, he realized it probably hadn't been directed exclusively at him; he had merely had the misfortune of reading her wrongly and instigating it. "Maria—"

She held up a hand, shaking her head. "No, Georg. Don't say anything, please."

It was like seeing her for the first time. Georg noticed how her shoulders sagged, how tired her eyes were, how desperately her hair needed trimmed, how gaunt her face seemed in the low light. She looked as though she was being pulled to the ground from a point of gravity so heavy at the core of her body that the only way she remained standing was through sheer willpower alone.

She didn't move toward him, but she spoke softly, tenderly. "I apologize for my behaviour today. It was entirely out of line. I wish you would forgive me of it."

"Oh, love," Georg assured, daring to embrace her, "there is nothing to forgive."

She hesitated for only a moment before wrapping her arms around him, placing her head against his shoulder.

"I was thinking," Georg whispered into her ear, "that we should take a holiday, just the two of us. Perhaps to Venice?"

Maria gave a low sound of approval. "But let's not think of that now. I do believe there is one chocolate éclair and one slice of linzertorte in the kitchen that we can share, Captain."

Smiling, Georg pulled away from his wife and looked at her. "You lead the way, Fräulein."

"Yes, sir."


End file.
